The Shadow of the Thorn

Dwalin paused his packing upon hearing the unexpected question, his bushy eyebrows rising. He motioned for Silak to take a seat, moving with a familiar economy of motion to a small table where a sturdy, dwarven-forged kettle sat.

He poured hot water over dried leaves in two ceramic cups, releasing a fragrant, earthy steam that filled the small room with the scent of mountain herbs. It was a ritual that spoke of a hundred roadside camps and a thousand serious conversations.

"The Vareth Dominion, eh?" he finally asked, placing a cup before Silak. "Why the sudden curiosity, lad?"

"An envoy from their kingdom visited my father recently," Silak explained, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. "They want to recruit our tribe. Father declined at first, but the envoy was… insistent. He persuaded my father to at least visit their king before making a final decision." He kept the story brief; the basic facts weren't a secret.

Dwalin's brows furrowed as he listened, his expression growing serious. "Hm, that tracks, given the sorry state of that kingdom and its royal family."

"Then you know something? Any information you can share would be helpful, Mister Dwalin."

The dwarf sighed, stroking his magnificent beard thoughtfully. "It's not that I'm unwilling to share, lad. It's that what I know is mostly tavern gossip and whispers from the road. And you must never mistake whispers for truth. Rumors are weapons, often started by rivals to sow fear or by desperate merchants to drive up prices. Rushing a major decision for your tribe based on that kind of bad information is a recipe for disaster."

Silak's heart sank a little. Dwalin was right, but it presented a new problem. Where could he possibly find reliable information? He had no network, no contacts.

"Do you have any other ideas, Mister Dwalin? Where does one find information that can be trusted?" Silak asked, hoping the well-traveled dwarf knew of another way.

Dwalin took a slow sip of his tea, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes, talking to you, I forget you're just a lad. You're asking the right questions, but looking in the wrong places." He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "If you're looking for information, the best place to start is often an inn."

"But you just said tavern gossip isn't reliable," Silak replied, confused.

"Aye, the gossip of drunkards downstairs is worthless," Dwalin chuckled. "I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about The Gilded Thorn itself."

He tapped the wooden table with a thick finger. "Haven't you noticed, lad? I can leave a room full of valuable goods here for days while I do business in one of the most lawless districts I've seen, and I don't worry for a second."

"That's not blind trust," he continued, his smile fading. "It's confidence in where I'm staying."

"I don't understand," Silak admitted. "I looked carefully on my way in. I saw no guards, no powerful warriors. Just a few servers and a… cat."

Dwalin's expression turned grim. "Lad, the secrets of The Gilded Thorn run deeper than any mine. I don't know all of them, but I know this: they are everywhere. In every major city I have visited, there is a business under their banner—taverns, inns, brothels, auction houses, merchant guilds… you name it."

He leaned closer still, his voice a low whisper. "And anyone with a lick of sense knows not to cause trouble on their grounds. I once heard a story about a brash young noble who tried to strong-arm the innkeeper in the capital. He and his two bodyguards vanished overnight. The only thing left in their room was a single, gilded thorn resting on each of their pillows. No one ever saw them again."

A chill that had nothing to do with the night air ran down Silak's spine. This wasn't just a business; it was a power that operated by its own, terrifyingly efficient rules. In his past life, he knew of powerful corporations and shadowy intelligence agencies that bent governments to their will, but this felt different.

This was more ancient, more absolute. He began to recalibrate his understanding of the world. Beyond kingdoms and tribes, there were powers like the Thorn, players who could be potent allies or devastating foes in the coming conflict with the Evil God's followers. Navigating this world would require far more than just personal strength.

"So," Dwalin said, returning to the original topic, "if it's information you seek, the Thorn can provide it. And unlike tavern gossip, their information is guaranteed to be accurate."

The pieces clicked into place for Silak. For an organization this vast, information about a single, troubled kingdom would be a trivial matter. But a new problem arose. "Mister Dwalin… could you acquire this information on my behalf? I don't think they would take a child seriously. Worse, if they started digging into why a kid from the Tala ng Gubat tribe is asking about Vareth, it could expose us both."

"That's sharp thinking, lad. You're right," Dwalin agreed immediately. "We can't trust them not to sell information about us to the highest bidder. I'll be the one to make the request. We keep you out of it entirely."

"However," Dwalin added, "I have no idea what the cost will be. Information like this doesn't come cheap."

Silak contemplated this, his mind calculating. The resources from Gahumdagat were precious. The tribe's impending migration would require a massive expenditure—food stores, defensive supplies for the journey, tools to build a new settlement. Every coin mattered.

"Let's narrow the scope," he suggested, his voice taking on a strategic tone. "We don't need everything. We only need information vital to the decision of joining them. Their true military strength, the stability of the royal family, the nature of their enemies, and the key figures in their internal power struggles. That should give us what we need without paying for useless details."

"A solid plan," Dwalin nodded in approval. "But we'll need coin first. Most of your goods are bartering materials."

"Let's deal with that now," Silak decided. "Can you ask if they can exchange my materials for coin right here at the inn? It would save us a lot of time. If not, I'll need to make a trip home."

"Don't worry about your payment from me," Silak added quickly, seeing a flicker of concern in the dwarf's eyes. "I can easily get you another batch of high-quality forging materials. This is more important."

The dwarf's face broke into a broad, toothy grin. "Aye, that it is. Alright, lad. You wait here. Let me go see what the cat has to say about turning bones and furs into gold."